


Snowball Fights

by culluvian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Cullistair, Fluff, M/M, Snowball Fights, chantry days, more like snowball FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culluvian/pseuds/culluvian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair's lighthearted attempt at some fun on a cold snowy day evolves into something more tender and warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball Fights

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my lovely writer friends for the encouragement! <3 may we cry forever over fictional nerds

_Fwoosh!_

A snowball flies past Alistair's face and he feels his heartbeat thrum in his chest, laughter and the taste of crisp winter air on his tongue. He darts behind a tree and braces his weight against the bark, leaning his head back and catching his breath.

_Maker,_ the things he gets himself into _._

Alistair thinks he hears a cracking twig in the woods and his pulse hammers faster. Gloved hands move to the ground, piling up snow and quickly forming it into a ball between his palms.

“I never took you for a coward, Alistair!” calls a voice. _Cullen._ He was close, by the sounds of it, but who could really be sure with the way sound seemed to echo in this place?

“Oh, I'm quite the coward, believe me,” Alistair calls back, edging around the tree, eyes scanning the snow covered forest for a snatch of blonde hair, but all he sees is white, white everywhere. “Just yesterday I ran terrified from the sight of a chantry sister hanging her knickers on a clothesline to dry.”

There's a snorting noise nearby followed by the crunch of boots on snow, and Alistair flips around, frantic, hand raised with his snowball at the ready. How did he even find himself here, in a snowball fight with Cullen, of all people? Ah yes, nailing him in the face with a giant ball of ice while he was practicing his swordsmanship, then running away laughing. That was how.

“A pair of knickers can't be that scary, Alistair.”

Alistair smiles at the exasperation in Cullen's voice. “You'd be surprised. But honestly, I was more afraid of what _she_ might do to me if she saw me walking up on her. I felt like I was sinning just by laying my eyes on them. Is it possible to sin unintentionally? Because if so, then I-”

_Wham!_

A hard ball of snow slams squarely into Alistair’s back, and he spins on his heel to see Cullen a few feet away.

“You've really got to stop giving away your location by talking,” says Cullen, and it would almost sound stern if it weren't for the smug grin on his face. Cullen stands tall, poised on a slope of land, and the feeling of gold eyes running over him sends a shiver down Alistair's spine that could rival the cold any day.

“Stop talking?” responds Alistair, a cheeky grin curling his lips. “Blasphemous.”

Alistair takes his clear shot and swings his arm, rocketing his snowball towards Cullen's head and! _Misses_ , by just an inch as Cullen dodges and disappears out of sight, moving agile through the trees. Alistair curses, dropping down on one knee to scoop up more snow, forming several hastily made snowballs and cradling them in the crook of his arm. Cullen was much better at this than he'd anticipated, hitting Alistair more than he missed. 

Alistair goes as fast as he can without slipping, darting in and out of trees and behind rocks, throwing his snowballs at anything that moves, or anything in the corner of his eye that he _thinks_ he saw move, which more often than not turns out to be nothing at all.

“I can hear it now, Alistair Theirin, great and mighty Templar. Afraid of inanimate objects,” he grumbles to himself after throwing a snowball at a falling leaf.

“If these were fireballs,” Cullen's voice sounds close and far at the same time, “You'd be _dead_.”

Alistair's smile is back, “Yes, well, they may not be fireballs, but they still _hurt_ -”

The snow hits him right on the side of the cheek this time, a cold shock to the senses and Alistair reels. This was a very bad idea, a very _very_ bad idea, but he still can't quite get himself to regret it, the sound of Cullen's muffled laughter warming Alistair to the core. He treasured moments like this. No chantry, no Templar training, just the two of them in a private space of their own. Alistair hadn't been able to choose much in his life thus far, but when it came to who he wanted to spend his time with, the choice was always clear.

“Ready to give up yet, Theirin?” Cullen says, and Alistair spots him up ahead, just a glance before he disappears again.

“You're not even going to give me a free shot?” Alistair knows he can catch him, if his legs would just move _faster_.

“I'd say you took your free shot already, Alistair. When you _hit me in the face._ ”

“Oh that?” Alistair chuckles, deciding to cut across the frozen riverbank to save time. Cullen was in his sights again, and he wasn't going to let him get away, a determined stride carrying Alistair forward. One step closer, two steps closer, three, solid ice crackling underfoot. Or at least, it seemed solid.

“Yes, _that,_ ” says Cullen, “Really, I don't know how you- _ALISTAIR_!” The mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice quickly turns to alarm.

Alistair hears the shout before he realizes what's happening, a sharp crack on the riverbank, his right leg plunged into water colder than anything he’d ever felt before, so cold it burned. The crack in the ice grows wider with the pressure of his body weight and Alistair struggles to pull himself free, but that only seems to make things worse, the river threatening to take him whole.

“Just hold still!” Cullen calls, rushing down to the edge, stretching himself as far as he can to reach Alistair, palm extended, all thoughts of their snowball fight abandoned.

Alistair's teeth are already chattering, the stinging cold creeping up his leg into the rest of his body. His panic might swallow him before the river does. “M-maybe I'll have to get a peg leg,” Alistair jokes, trying to calm himself. “I'll be like a p-pirate.”

“You're not going to lose your leg, Alistair,” says Cullen. “Now take my hand!”

Alistair stretches as much as he dares, reaching out for Cullen. He knows he was stupid. Stupid not to check to see if the river was truly safe or not, but... he wasn't thinking straight. That seemed to be happening more and more often when Cullen was around.

Their hands find each other and Cullen pulls with all his strength. There's resistance, and Alistair feels his foot catching on the ice, not so quick to let him go.

“I've almost got you,” Cullen huffs, “I-”

Another hard yank and Alistair is free, tumbling forward into Cullen's chest. The force of him knocks Cullen to the ground, a soft thump in the snow as they both go down together. Alistair feels his heartbeat pounding in his ears, loud, like the screaming in his head when he finds himself on top of Cullen. Not like how he'd imagined it would happen, _not that he'd ever imagined it before_ , of course. They're tangled there, the air knocked from Cullen's lungs and neither seem to know what to do. It's as if everything has gone still, their bodies, their breathing, frozen like nature itself.

“I..er..” Alistair stammers, mere inches from Cullen's face. If he felt cold before, he was practically on fire now, the heat of embarrassment and... _something more_ traveling through him. “Thanks for...thank you for saving me, Cullen.”

Cullen takes a moment to respond, merely staring up at Alistair. His blonde hair is spread out in the snow underneath him, ice crystals clinging to his curls. There's a look that passes in his gaze and Cullen shifts, as if he's only now realizing just how closely their bodies are pressed together, his hand still grasping idly onto Alistair's. He doesn't ask him to get off and Alistair makes no move to, either. “I..wouldn't have had to, if you hadn't made such a reckless decision,” says Cullen finally, averting his gaze.

“What can I say, I like to live on the dangerous side of life,” says Alistair, a small chuckle in his throat. “And look, I've finally caught you, too.”

"Don't.”

“Don't...what?”

Cullen's staring at him again, and _maker_ is he staring. It's a look Alistair hasn't seen from him before, something intense that gives him pause. It's concern, but it's more than that. It's fear.

“Don't...live dangerously,” Cullen says quietly, his grip on Alistair's hand tightening absently. “If I hadn't...if you got stuck in that river and I wasn't there...”

“I would have figured something out,” says Alistair weakly, but he doesn't even believe himself. He's not sure what would have happened if Cullen wasn't there. If he'd disappeared into the woods too fast to notice what happened.

“You don't know that.”

“Am I sensing you're...worried for me?” Alistair's grin slips back despite himself, despite his rapid heartbeat that hadn't slowed down one bit. If anything, it'd gotten faster.

“Yes,” replies Cullen, almost hoarse. He says it without hesitation, and maybe it's because of the lingering adrenaline but Alistair knows it's genuine. “I...don't want to lose you.”

“Cullen...”

The pink in Cullen's cheeks grows deeper, but he doesn't take it back. His lips are slightly parted, and Alistair lets his gaze fall to them, so close that it would only take one small movement to meet them with his own.

Alistair knows Cullen has to feel the pounding in his chest, the constricting of his lungs, and he could almost swear he feels the same thing from Cullen, the two of them mirroring uncertain emotions, unspoken desire, and... _oh._

It's Alistair who shifts this time, his body beginning to betray him, warmth spreading entirely _too far_ , and it's something he definitely _doesn't_ want Cullen to feel. In his panic, he does the only thing he can think to do.

He grabs a handful of snow and crushes it to the side of Cullen's face.

“THEIRIN!”

Alistair rolls off before he can give himself away more than he wants to and the moment is broken. Laughter escapes Alistair at the look on Cullen's face, and he'd almost feel bad if it weren't for the increasingly persistent ache in his lower body he was desperate to conceal.

“Maybe I should have left you in the river after all,” Cullen grumbles, barely convincing, sitting up and brushing the snow from his hair and clothes. He frowns as Alistair helps him to his feet, but it quickly dissolves into something fonder, the hint of a smile just under the surface. “We should probably...get back to the chantry,” he says, hand clasped around the back of his neck.

“Yes,” agrees Alistair, though he wasn't sure if the chantry really was the best place for him at the moment. The heat and sinful feelings radiating off of him were probably enough to melt the snow and make Andraste herself cry. “You know how those chantry sisters are when someone misses curfew. Both them and their knickers are quite scary.”

Cullen snorts and Alistair feels the tightness in his chest ease, remembering again why he cherishes their time together so much. Their hands brush next to each other the whole time they walk back, neither of them moving farther from each other's side when it happens, neither having wanted to let go in the first place.

Alistair's heart doesn't slow down until long after night has fallen and he's laid down to sleep.

 

 


End file.
